


one cup at a time

by quakeriders



Series: acotar au week [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bickering, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders
Summary: Feyre let out a spew of her most favored curse words as she stumbled into the coffee shop, trying to clean the soles of her boots before stepping off the mat.A soft chuckle pulled her attention up and towards the line of customers waiting to order. The last person, a tall, broad shouldered guy, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes was looking right at her.acotarauweek 🎄 day 01: coffee shop au
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: acotar au week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566274
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124
Collections: ACOTAR AU Week, ACOTAR AU Week Day 1





	one cup at a time

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by prompt #3 on [this list](https://hairlikehisblush.tumblr.com/post/121365514395/some-coffee-shop-aus-for-you-to-consider) by hairlikehisblush on tumblr

Feyre let out a spew of her most favored curse words as she stumbled into the coffee shop, trying to clean the soles of her boots before stepping off the mat.

A soft chuckle pulled her attention up and towards the line of customers waiting to order. The last person, a tall, broad shouldered guy, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes was looking right at her.

She might have blushed at the sight of him – he was undeniably attractive. But his smug expression sent a bolt of annoyance through Feyre, causing her to scowl at his highly amused face.

“What are you looking at?” She spat, closing her umbrella and having to walk up to him to stand in line.

His smirk just widened and Feyre could have sworn his eyes twinkled. “I was just surprised that a pretty little thing like you can have such a dirty mouth.”

She didn’t know what to do with herself. Certainly, her itching fingers were dying to slap that expression right off his face. And her tongue was ready to lash out to use a few more of those words to shut him up. Instead, she took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in her mind and said in a flat voice, “Fuck off.”

He let out a surprised little laugh. The sound snaked across Feyre’s bones and she had to suppress a shudder. _Anger,_ this was definitely anger that she was feeling, not.. not anything else.

She scowled harder, almost tempted to turn around and storm out of the shop. She didn’t think she could deal with such an annoying person for much longer. Especially without having had her morning cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry, if I have offended you.” He said after a few moments and despite his words, a slight amusement still colored his tone. “I’m not used to hearing such creative curse words coming from a lady.”

“That’s probably because no _lady_ in their right mind would speak to you more than once.” Feyre shot back, feeling a bit of heat invading her cheeks.

He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight to one side. The movement was elegant, almost fluid and Feyre couldn’t help but think that he would make an excellent study in anatomy.

His smirk turned into something more suggestive and Feyre realized with a start that she’d just been running her eyes all over him, lingering on certain parts of his body. She snapped them back up, focussing on a point somewhere over his right shoulder and bit her lip to stop from saying or doing anything stupid.

“Oh, come now,” He teased. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

She gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath through her nose and trying her best to ignore him. He chuckled again and Feyre clenched her hands into fists to stop herself from tackling or cursing him and his stupid, _stupid_ face.

“Next.” The barista called from the counter and Feyre could’ve almost cried in relief when the guy had to turn his back to place his order.

By the time he had ordered and looked ready to resume their conversation, Feyre had already pulled out her phone and held it up to her ear to feign a conversation.

Something in his eyes told her that he saw right through the act, still as he picked up his cup and walked outside, he just saluted her before swaggering off.

Feyre did absolutely not check out his retreating form. And her eyes did not linger on his backside. No, definitely not.

–

Two days later, Feyre was dumping an unhealthy amount of sugar into her black coffee and stirring it like her life depended on it. Which, to be completely honest, it kind of did.

She had two more papers to write and her roommates had decided to have a Lord of the Rings marathon last night, so she was dead on her feet and in desperate need of caffeine.

“Two shots of espresso to go, please.” A smooth voice ordered. And then after a moment of pause, “No wait, sorry, I’d rather drink it here.”

Feyre sneaked a glance to her side and just like she had anticipated – or worried – the handsome prick from two days ago was smirking at her. When their eyes met, he had the audacity to wink.

Gritting her teeth, Feyre picked up her coffee and steered towards a table in the back of the shop. She sat with her back facing the counter, pulling out her laptop, then her headphones.

As she was working on untangling the cord, a shadow walked by and the damn prick sat down at the table next to hers. On the other side, so that whenever she looked up, she couldn’t help but see him.

“Fancy seeing you here again, darling.”

“I’m not your darling.” Feyre snapped, then immediately regretted responding to him.

He chuckled again and a small, _very_ small part of her admitted that she liked the sound. And the way he looked when he did that.

A bigger, more prominent part of her, mentally slapped herself and almost ripped apart her earphones in her hurry to plug them into her laptop.

“So, do you come here often?” He asked, sounding like he was trying to start a more pleasant conversation than the biting words they had exchanged before.

“Yes. For the peace and quiet.” Feyre said, looking at him flatly and putting her headphones on.

She was kind of sorry to miss the sound of his laughter as the music started blasting into her ears. Still, the sight of his lips parting and his eyes crinkling was lovely enough.

No. Not lovely. Annoying and presuming and –

Feyre fixed her eyes on her screen, fingers sliding over the keyboard aimlessly. She gritted her teeth as she concentrated very hard on not looking up.

For the next twenty minutes, she barely read or wrote anything. Simply looked at her laptop and didn’t even dare to pick up her coffee to drink from it. Just in case her eyes might wander over to the next table.

At some point, she lost the battle she had been silently waging against herself and looked up.

The prick was gone. His cup was gone.

She told herself that the twinge of disappointment was because her coffee had gone cold.

–

Somehow bickering with the handsome stranger had turned into Feyre’s favorite past time. Not that she would ever admit that to him or anyone else. She could barely stand admitting it to herself.

Besides, it wasn’t much of them bickering anymore. It was more like heated glares that Feyre sent his way whenever she spotted him and him returning one of his taunting smirks that made her cheeks flame and her heart beat faster.

It was like a rush of adrenaline and she was starting to wonder if it was the coffee that managed to wake her up each morning or if it was their back and forth.

And she wasn’t sure why, but when she had been asked out on a date by Tarquin, a guy from her History class, she had immediately felt the need to shut him down. Not harshly, but firmly. And when she did so, she somehow ended up thinking about the annoying prick from the coffee shop.

She knew him well by now. Could sketch him from memory. Had memorized the sharp angles of his face and the soft waves of his hair. But, she still didn’t know his name. And that made her realize how _little_ she actually knew of him. And that she felt like she was missing out.

–

Feyre had been in the coffee shop for almost an hour now. It was so crowded that she had made sure to get a refill twice already as to not appear like she was taking over space that could be used by new, paying customers.

She had been sketching, looking up every few minutes to see if the prick would show up. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he saw that there was no place for him to sit and annoy her.

And just to make sure that she could really hammer that point home, she had stretched her legs out over the other chair at her table and propped her sketchbook up on her knees.

She heard his smooth voice despite the chattering crowd, not because it was particularly loud, but because Feyre had been waiting for it. Hoping for it.

Her head snapped up, finding him at the counter with a messenger back slung over one shoulder. Just as she was about to look away, he sneaked a glance over his shoulder and grinned as their eyes met.

Feyre, flushing slightly, ducked her head back down and resumed her sketch. Albeit a bit half heartedly.

A few moments later, she felt someone approach her. Before she had time to look up and open her mouth, large warm hands slid gripped her softly by her ankles. She watched in shocked silence as her legs were lifted off the chair, as the prick slid onto it and then gently placed her legs back down. Right across his lap.

Then, as if this was something they had done a million times, he pulled a laptop from his bag and placed it on the table. Feyre watched, open-mouthed, as he opened a document and while one hand was fiddling with the laptop, the other was a soft warm weight on top of her calves.

“What-” She said, her voice croaky and breathless. She cleared her throat. “What do you think you’re doing?” She asked, gripping her pencil tightly as he turned a bit in his seat to look at her. She felt his muscles under her legs tense and relax at the movement and tried to block it out. Unsuccessfully.

“Working on my essay.” He replied. No humor, no teasing in his voice. Just even and factual.

But then his fingers squeezed around her ankle and Feyre felt heat spread through her whole body. Right from where his fingertips rested and up to the very tips of her slightly pointed ears.

“And enjoying your company, of course.” He added and a corner of his mouth twitched up. “Is that a problem?”

“I don’t even know your name.” She blurted out, because the feeling coiling low in her gut wasn’t something she was supposed to be feeling towards a stranger. No matter how many remarks they had traded between them. No matter how many mornings they had spent throwing looks at each other and enjoying each other’s company from a table away. No matter how handsome he was. No matter how nice he smelled. No matter how warm and firm his body was under hers.

“My name’s Rhysand. But my friends all call me Rhys.” He said, simply. “Especially friends who look at me like that.”

He winked and Feyre scowled at him, torn between wanting to pull away and sliding closer. “Rhys.” Her lips spoke the name, slowly, carefully and almost completely against her better judgement.

“Yes. And will I know the pleasure of knowing your name, darling?”

She looked at him. At his blue, _blue_ eyes and that smile that somehow had turned earnest in the last few heartbeats. No longer teasing or suggestive, but.. hopeful.

And she replied, unable to smile a bit as she did so. “My name’s Feyre.”

And when he softly repeated her name, that same soft smile on his lips, too, it somehow felt like he had known it – _her_ – all along.


End file.
